


It's Not Even My Birthday

by ThatGingerOne



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Bullying, F/M, Gen, M/M, Other, Reader-Insert, Self-Doubt, Self-Esteem Issues, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-03 15:52:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6616492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatGingerOne/pseuds/ThatGingerOne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabble: “Wait a minute, are you being nice to me? But it isn’t my birthday.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Not Even My Birthday

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing any sort of fanfiction in over 3 years. It's not my best work but I hope it's somewhat enjoyable.

     John Murphy. There are many ways you can describe him. My personal favourite is egotistical, overly aggressive,douche-nozzle. (It's incredibly accurate.) Everyday he sneers at the rest of the camp as we bust our asses making sure we're safe. Okay, so he goes on a few hunting trips and he helps with some heavy lifting. That doesn't change the fact that he's Bellamy's mindless right hand that always finds its way to me. Today I had taken Jasper's shift so he could help Monty put together a new batch of Moonshine. Which left me alone with my thoughts, a very dangerous thing in times like these. Without anyone to converse with I put all of my concentration into cleaning and reloading the guns with ammo Raven had scraped together. I wasn't even aware that I wasn't alone until I dropped some ammo. 

  "Remind me again why we keep you around? Could it be your strength? No. Your wit? Nope...How about your looks?"

     The question was left unanswered in the air as he broke into a laugh. Instead of entertaining his thoughts I kept to my work hoping that if I wished hard enough he'd disappear. Unfortunately, wishes don't come true down here.  His footsteps were heavy and determined as he walked around the table to stand opposite of me as his hand slammed down onto the makeshift table. I startled at the forceful blow as the surface shook. Refusing to look up I spoke no louder than a whisper, "Yes, Murphy?"

When no answer came I started back to work and in an instant his hand grabbed my jaw. In one swift movement I was forced to look at him. Terror filled me as my tear filled eyes met his empty ones.

  He let out a huff as he ground out , “I asked you a question. Why. Do. We. Keep. You. Around?!”

     Swallowing the lump in my throat I tried to find my courage, but alas there was none to be found in this moment. I didn’t know how to answer him. This question was one I asked myself often. I didn’t provide much other than a support role to others in the camp. Not once have I done something on my own of significance.  I opened my mouth to respond, but no sound could be heard other than my broken shallow breathing. With a click of his tongue he released his grip on my chin with a hard push back. Feeling of my face I winced at the pain I felt there, I would be lucky if it didn’t bruise.   Murphy’s footsteps caught my attention and I raised my eyes again expecting to see him moving in front of me. When I ended up looking at the tent wall I realized he was leaving. Only when his voice cut through the silence did I turn my head down to stare at a non-existent stain on the table.

The coldness from his voice could be felt in the small space,“Don’t fuck things up. Bellamy won’t be happy to learn some screw up left us all unarmed.” 

     Once I was sure he had left my small amount of control slipped through my grasp. Sobs hit me full force and no amount of crying was going to fix the hatred aimed at me. Hours must have passed before Raven found me. We didn’t speak as she wiped my tears away and escorted me to my tent.  Attempting to sleep was a lost cause; my mind was plagued with the harsh words of Murphy. I cried over them until my existence felt completely useless. My parents had said it, everyone in camp believed it too, Raven only pitied me. This time I was making a move on my own.  I rolled out of bed with fiery determination for once and began throwing essentials in my pack. My rations were slim, and I had nothing more for defense than the knife I had crafted from scrap. Yet, I still preferred my odds outside of the camp. Grounders wouldn’t care if I was useless or not; they’d kill me no matter what.

     The inevitable on my mind, I made my way out of camp being extra cautious of my surroundings. I never thought I’d actually make it out, but maybe those on watch did see me. Who would blame them for letting me leave? Murphy made it very clear that I wasn’t wanted here. Stumbling into the night I felt a sense of relief. Strange as it may be, I now had no expectations to meet.  Just as soon as the feeling came it left. Fear replaced it as an arrow soared past my head. I wanted to run, I knew I needed to run, but I couldn’t. Standing there it was clear that my life was over. My eyes felt heavy with tears and in an instant I was moving.  Thoughts soared in my mind and I couldn’t process where I was going or how I was moving. The one thing I could process was someone screaming for Clarke.

     I awoke in my tent, alone, confused, and thankful. My head was pounding as I looked about and noticed the water by my bed. I downed it quickly and stood after a few attempts to catch my balance. Making my way outside of the tent everything was normal as ever. The unrelenting pain in my head didn’t allow me to go very far before needing to sit down.  With my head in my hands I tried to recall the previous night. Details were fuzzy but I could swear I had left camp. Grounders. Someone saving me. The longer I tried to recall the more things got muddled. I was interrupted by the clearing of another’s throat. Meeting the gaze of the boy before me made me physically recoil.

  “Murphy, I swear to God, don’t do this today. I can’t take it. Come back tomorrow and you can throw whatever you want at me.”

  My head tilted in wonder as he moved to sit next to me. His hands restless and his eyes darting about in avoidance of my own. His voice was coarse and strained as he spoke.

  “I’m not here to... I wanted...Look Y/N , I’m sorry.”

  He took my silence in and continued,“I never thought you’d do something that stupid. Running off like that is one of the dumbest things you’ve done and there's a lot on that list.”

  I scoffed, “Is this your way of making amends? What the hell makes you think calling me stupid is going to work?”

  Groaning he threw a hand to the bridge of his nose in frustration. Breathing in deeply he finally looked me in the eyes his hand fell back to his side. I couldn’t read what his eyes held. Shame? Regret? 

  “I don’t know how to do this. I don’t do this. Y/N I never meant to hurt you like that. I’m a dick I know that. You have every right to hate me for what I did to you. Just tell me how I can fix this.”

     Staring at him I scrunched up my face in confusion. He seemed genuine enough which was way too weird. After a few minutes of searching his face and eyes for any trace of deceit or an ulterior motive I found nothing that made me feel uneasy.

  “John Murphy,” I was surprised as my voice did not waiver. “you’re being nice. To me. It’s not even my birthday!” I couldn’t help the small smile that found it’s way to my face. It was comforting to find a matching one on his face.

  He chuckled and bumped his arm into mine. “Let’s not push it, okay?”

  Maybe, just maybe, there is a layer of John Murphy that isn’t all that bad.


End file.
